DESIGN FOR SPIRIT
Over time I have talked about the values we infuse into our work, the nine considerations in creating spaces that are the root of Design is Spiritual™. What I have come to realize is the most important aspect is infusing presence and intentionality.
Presence in the process.
Presence in our relationships.
Presence in the finished space.
This morning, I was invigorated when I read an article in The Atlantic, The Missing Ingredient of Modern Life: Why We Need Wonder, in which Ian Bogost explores how much of life we miss through our constant pursuit of optimization. When everything is designed to be faster, easier, and more efficient, we can lose the ability to simply be where we are.
Wonder asks something different of us.
Wonder brings us into the present moment. It might be noticing the beauty of a valley while driving through it, having an unexpectedly inspiring conversation, or wandering the streets without a destination and stumbling upon a new shop. These moments aren't necessarily productive. They don't need to lead anywhere. And perhaps that is precisely their value.
I think about design in much the same way.
While to some, the nine objectives of Design is Spiritual™ may seem lofty or broad, to me they are an invitation to a way of life. They ask us to slow down enough to notice.
A few ways this can happen through design:
Tell the story of the maker. Share the story of the artisan—their process, their purpose, where the materials originated, and the people involved in bringing the work to life. This invites a client to see the interconnectedness of us all. There is a beautiful phrase that comes to mind: Work is love in action.
Honor the past while crafting the future. A home can hold memory and possibility at the same time. Family heirlooms, inherited objects, or original architectural details can live alongside modern organization and contemporary design. The result is not simply a beautiful space, but one that acknowledges where we have come from while making room for what comes next.
Create spaces for stillness. Not every corner needs to be optimized for activity. Some spaces can simply invite us to pause—to notice our own thoughts, the softness of a pillow, the changing light across a wall, or the warmth of the sun coming through a window. Stillness is not an absence of design; it can be one of its most intentional expressions.
Turn everyday experiences into ritual. Bathing. Making a cup of coffee. Gathering around the hearth. Opening a window in the morning. Design can elevate these ordinary experiences by giving them beauty, attention, and a sense of ceremony. When we recognize these moments as rituals, everyday life becomes richer.
Make the decisions visible. Instead of simply presenting a beautiful material, share why it was chosen. Perhaps it helps clean the air, excludes toxic ingredients, is locally made, uses less water, or reduces waste. These decisions connect the aesthetic experience of a space to a larger story about our environment and our responsibility to it.
A designed and built space is never really the work of one person. It is an orchestration, a collaboration, a network of people, materials, histories, skills, ideas, and intentions. When we make those relationships visible, the space becomes more meaningful. It tells a story about how we live and, perhaps, about how we want to live. There is a kind of alchemy that happens.